Make Me Forget
by Cooklez
Summary: A small Harry/Cybil one-shot based around the Good Plus Ending of the first game. Mainly fluff.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This story is based on the Good+ Ending from the first game. It's a one-shot that displays how I'd think Harry and Cybil would treat each other after saving Cheryl/Heather. Ultimately, I'd like to see them as a couple, so this is mainly a prologue and single chapter of pure, gooey fluff. If you've seen the Good+ Ending, then the prologue is unnecessary, for it is simply a novelization of exactly that. I tried not to change any of the canon text.  
I do not own Silent Hill or any of its affiliates.**

* * *

_My daughter. I have to save me daughter._

Harry Mason bounded down the wooden stairs. They seemed endless, descending far into the darkness. His gun lay lethargically in his hand, sweat rolling down his face. The shadows soon incased him, though his shoes continued to hit the steps below him rapidly. He was like a bull, rampant and hell bound.

Grating replaced the rotting planks, leveling the ground. His eyes began to focus on the light before him, a dim orange that seemed to be the only source of illumination in the vast empty space. As he approached, he could see four figures, seemingly conversing in conversation he could not yet hear.

Cybil Bennett had her firearm pointed at Dahlia Gillespie steadily, configuring her aim. The mad woman was ranting about her poor daughter Alessa, whom sat, silent and inert as a sarcophagus, in a battered wheelchair. Kneeling next to her was Cheryl, the poor, dark-haired girl Harry had risked so much of his life to save.

"-his little girl still has to go. What a pity," Dahlia spoke, feigning sincerity. Harry stopped before the group, legs aching. His lungs felt like they were on fire, combusting within him.

"Freeze!" Cybil yelped, keeping her attention away from the man and on the elderly woman. She shot a single bullet, one that repelled effortlessly off an imperceptible shield surrounding the cavalcade.

"What in the devil's name…" the police woman stood, mouth agape. She positioned her finger on the trigger once more, but an unidentified force threw her back coarsely, causing her consciousness to slip out of her grasp.

Harry resisted an urge to help her, pressing towards the other woman instead. "Dahlia!" he shouted, a rivet of interrogative tone in his otherwise civil voice.

"Well, well, well. To think you'd made it this far," Dahlia chortled at the man's foolishness. He honestly thought he could save his kin, that he could win the battle. What an inept being.

Harry pointed a jittering finger at her roughly, "Where's Cheryl!? What have you done to her!?"

The elder folded her arms, raising her eyebrows inquisitively, "What are you talking about? You've seen her many times, restored to her former self."

"I'm in no mood for jokes." Harry was full of deafening anger and rage, but also a sorrow, a despair that sat on his shoulders like a demon feasting on his soul. A voice in his head told him his daughter was gone, distorted within the town like Lisa. He didn't want to believe it, but there was a great possibility it was true.

"Don't you see?" Dahlia held out a wrinkled hand towards the bandaged girl in the chair, "She's right there."

"That's absurd."

"You are the only ones who thinks so."

Harry was nearly in tears. He was scared. He wanted answers. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

"It's been a long seven years...For the seven years since that terrible day, Alessa has been kept alive, suffering a fate worse than death. Alessa has been trapped in an endless nightmare from which she never awakens. He has been nurtured by that nightmare, waiting for the day to be born. That day has finally come. The time is nigh. Everyone will be released from pain and suffering. Our salvation is at hand. This is the day of reckoning, when all our sorrows will be washed away. When we return to the true paradise!"

Dahlia looked at the omnipresent darkness above her, raising her arms to her sides.

"My daughter will be the mother… of God!"

As the woman stared up, a look of accomplishment spread on her face, a blinding glow began to illuminate from Alessa, causing Harry's retinas to burn. He turned his head away as it passed, like a curtain, to reveal only a single being. The woman was dressed in a white gown, surrounded by an intense radiance.

A large bang sounded beside her as Dahlia fell to the ground, a hand grabbing at the bullet wound imploded in her chest. Blood ran from the abrasion, dripping through the gaps in the floor and falling endlessly on.

Michael Kaufmann stood at Harry's side, a pistol held tightly in his hand, a black, polished briefcase in the other. "Quit screwing around! Return things to how they were before!" His voice was course and demanding, expelling an aurora of power.

The man beside him could barely speak, "Kaufmann?"

The doctor ignored him, "Did I ask for this!? Nobody uses me! You won't get away with this!"

Dahlia's arms shook as she held her torso up upon them. "Your role is over, we don't need you anymore. What do you think you can accomplish by coming here?" her once commanding tone was replaced with the sputtering of a dying individual. She coughed up a miniscule amount of blood, that of which rolled onto her lips and down her chin slowly.

Kaufmann chuckled, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, "My, aren't we getting cocky? Bet you can't see this and keep your cool." Michael slid his hand into the pocket of his blazer, pulling from it a vile of thick, red liquid.

"Aglaophotis! I thought I got rid of that!" the elderly woman's face dimmed like a winter night, gradually at first, then all at once.

"All I had to do was plant it somewhere for you to find. It, well, kept you busy. You're easy! And, there's more where this came from!"

Dahlia raised a frail limb, tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks, "Stop it!"

The doctor pulled back his arm, hurling the vessel swiftly towards the iridescent figure. It hit, smashing onto her dress upon impact. Crimson fluid flowed down her front, staining the silvery cloth.

The girl screamed, falling onto her knees in agony. A shrill shrieking began to fill Harry's ears, as well as Kaufmann's. "What the...?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

The dying woman on the ground laughed maniacally, breathing in her last breaths.

The two men's gaze was diverted elsewhere, for from the figure's back rose a massive, winged creature. It was skeletal, almost skinless, with large, black horns protruding from its long, pointed skull.

Michael backed away, frightened, "What the? That's not supposed to…"

The monsters flapped its wings, continuing to voice its twisted, ridged song. It was the kind of noise you hear when the radio loses signal in the car. It was scratchy and shrill, like nails on a chalkboard.

Bright, orange bolts of lightning began to project from its midsection, sending violent blasts of heat towards them. On the ground below, Dahlia was struck as she tittered in her ending moments, her clothes becoming engulfed in flame. Her dying cries were overthrown by the monstrous roar the beast let escape its maw.

* * *

Harry held the shotgun in his palms, staring down at the mutant's corpse. Another glow beamed from the cadaver, and when his eyes finally returned, the woman in the white gown lay on the ground, gazing up at the man in despair. Small patches of fire rained down from the abyss above, some missing him by only a few feet.

The woman clutched at her abdomen, the light growing violently bright once more, and then dimming to reveal a small, petite infant wrapped in a pink cloth. She held it gently, holding it above her for Harry to receive.

He kneeled, collected the baby and its blankets in his arms, smiling slightly as it cooed.

The room began to shake violently, nearly knocked him off his feet. On the metal grating below, the figure pointed towards an iridescent radiance in the far distance, straining hard to keep the entire world from rupturing around them.

Cybil carefully regained her stance, limping slowly towards the light. Harry began to follow, his eyes not leaving the woman on the floor, whom was barely able to hold on to the last life in her.

Behind them, Kaufmann was standing, prepared to take after the two, though a delicate pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, grumbling noises he could not comprehend as it dragged him to the floor, and to his imminent demise.

As the duo was nearing their destination, the roof started to vibrate pugnaciously. The sudden realization that they weren't going to make it dawned on Harry, as well as Cybil, as they ducked to the ground, cowering in fear.

The soft bang of the blazing debris hitting the grating stopped, if only for a moment. They hung menacingly in the air, frozen in time.

The figure that the beast had burst from lay on her side, straining to keep the inferno at bay. Harry looked at Cybil, catching her gaze, and rushing from the crumbling ruin expeditiously. He held the baby tight to his chest, protecting it from the smoke that had accumulated around them. He spared a glance back at the woman, the one whom had saved them, as her strength drained.

They continued to run, far out of that existence and into another, through the snow and fog and into whatever destiny had in store for them.


	2. Chapter 1

Harry Mason shot up, the sheets surrounding him drenched in bitter sweat. His breathing was ridged and jagged, leaving him gasping for air. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the dimness of his bedroom, a small light casting calming shadows onto the ceiling. He exhaled, resting his head back on the pillow.

He looked to his left, checking to make sure his nightmare had not disrupted her slumber. With his thumb, he brushed a short lock of blonde hair from her eyes, smiling and falling into a serene sleep.

* * *

Cybil Bennett yawned, placing the strips of bacon onto the sizzling surface of the pan. Morning dawn streamed in the window, a light breeze flowing in. Cheryl sat in her highchair, making a mess with her food. She laughed, orange mush dripping from her chin.

Harry walked into the kitchen, grabbing the cup of coffee she had laid out for him. He smiled at the infant, running a hand through her mossy brown hair. She made a soft coo, her hazel eyes lighting up.

"Lovely morning," he said stepping towards Cybil and kissing her cheek gently, staring out the glass pane and admiring the lush green foliage of spring.

The woman sat the bacon and eggs down at the table, taking a seat and picking at the food with her fork. Her appetite was lost, her lack of courage draining her desire to eat. Harry, however, was devouring his fill like an animal.

She took in a deep breath, "Harry," she ran a shaky palm through her tresses, "are you having bad dreams? We can see someone about it, if they're… well, you know, upsetting."

The man furrowed his brow, "They don't really bother me much. It's just memories, I don't need a shrink."

Cybil slammed her utensil down onto the table, "Harry, I don't want you to lose your sanity, certainly not around Cheryl. She's just a baby. If you keep having nightmares, we're going to see someone."

Harry wiped his mouth with a cloth, leaning onto his elbows. He reached across the table, extending his fingers. She ignored his invitation.

"Everything is going to be alright," he inclined himself up, returning to his breakfast.

Cybil stood, grabbing Cheryl in her arms, wiping away the excess food from her maw, and holding her head to her bosom. The infant made several noises before falling into a palliative rest.

"Just, think about it Harry," she feigned a smile, exiting the room unobtrusively.

* * *

Cybil lay in the bed, clutching at her pillow and shaking. The bathroom light was on behind her, the faucet running softly. Harry was whistling a melody, one that was joyous and sincere. She couldn't recognize it, but it calmed her slightly.

She heard the faint sound of the switch being flipped, and the floorboards creaking as he walked upon them. She closed her eyes, imitating sleep. Harry saw right through it, staring into her closed eyelids as he lay on the mattress.

"I'm sorry for making you so upset earlier. I thought about it, and I see where you're coming from. I don't want Cheryl's life to be any more fanatic than it already will be," he spoke in a whisper, running a warm palm over her cheek. Cybil held his hand there, stroking it with her nails. He shivered.

"I'm sorry for going berserk. I've been riddled with anxiety since we moved." She had not wanted to make the trip to Portland, a departure that would change her life in such an enormous way, though she did it, for the girl.

Harry nudged his nose into her shoulder, wrapping his tense arms around her. He just wanted to lie there, holding her, taking in her lingering smell of perfume. He wanted to fall asleep like this, in such a genuine way.

Cybil smiled, kissing the area above his eyebrow. She held his head to her chest, letting him hear her heartbeat as it gently thumped inside her. He was soon dozing off into the realm of his sub-conscious, and she was frightened he might have another lurid dream.

But he did not. The entire night, the only thing Harry Mason dreamed about was sitting in a wide open field, the sun beaming down on him, flowers blooming along the hillside. Beside him was Cybil, the two lounging out under a tall oak tree. In the meadow, Cheryl frolicked, chasing butterflies and picking tulips.

He never wanted to awaken.


End file.
